


Fallout

by JehanFerres



Series: Vaguely Punk AU [2]
Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Depression, M/M, mentions of self harm, tw self harm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-16
Updated: 2013-10-16
Packaged: 2017-12-29 14:31:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 624
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1006522
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JehanFerres/pseuds/JehanFerres
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jehan shrugs. “I just… crashed…”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fallout

The first time Combeferre wakes up after staying with Jehan, Jehan is sat on the edge of the bed, cross legged and hunched over, his arms over his head, hands tugging roughly at his hair, and his shoulders trembling just a little, and although he’s silent it’s obvious to Combeferre that he’s far from happy, although Combeferre isn’t in the slightest bit sure of what he should do with Jehan now that he’s crying.

Of course, Combeferre had known about the depression; Jehan had mentioned it a few times to explain the bottle of pills that was sat on his bedside table and the healing cuts and already-healed scars on his pale skin, but he’d also told Combeferre that he hadn’t had too much trouble for a while, although he hadn’t specified the length of this while.

What Jehan had told Combeferre, however, either wasn’t true, or had become not true during the night; Combeferre could hear the little poet sobbing quietly, one hand pulling at his dyed hair and the other still (but still shaking a little). Combeferre hoped that he wasn’t the cause of his boyfriend’s distress, as he was fairly certain that he hadn’t hurt him, and he hoped that Jehan would have said something if he had done.

Saying something, upon reflection, was probably what Combeferre should be doing now.

Instead, however, he sat up as well, gently resting his hand on the poet’s back. When this doesn’t seem to startle him, Combeferre gently pulls him down, tucking Jehan’s limbs against him and letting the little poet turn his head away – Combeferre can already see that he’s been crying, so he doesn’t need to know if he is – just if Jehan is okay.

“What’s wrong?” Combeferre asks after a couple of minutes, stroking Jehan’s hair carefully.

Jehan shrugs. “I just… crashed…” he mumbles, burying his face in Combeferre’s shoulder as, instead of speaking, Combeferre rubs the slightly aggravated bites on the poet’s neck and shoulders until Jehan loops his arms around his neck and levers himself up so that they’re level with each-other, resting his head against Combeferre's shoulder. “I’m sorry,” he mumbles.

“Don’t be. It isn’t your fault if you get sad; it can’t really be avoided.”

“N-no, but… but the meds were working. Now they aren’t.”

“You can still have bad days on medication – believe me,” Combeferre replies softly, grabbing a blanket and wrapping it around Jehan.

The poet curls into it, pressing his face into the soft fleece and nuzzling against it. Combeferre makes a ‘tch’ noise, tucking a blanket around his own shoulders as well. Jehan leans up and kisses him softly, humming to himself. He still has his arms and legs tucked into Combeferre’s chest, and Combeferre is hugging him, arms around the poet’s waist.

“What time is it?” Jehan asks softly, curling against Combeferre’s chest as the older boy looks towards the clock.

“It’s five,” he says softly. Jehan’s shoulders twitch with amusement and he kisses Combeferre again, seeming more than a little apologetic. “Sorry I woke you up,” he mumbles.  
Combeferre shrugs. “It’s fine. I don’t need to be up until ten anyway; I can probably put off doing anything about eleven, as well.” It’s still dark out; Combeferre is visibly tired and his shoulders are stiff, mostly because Jehan had pinned him down to the bed last night. “Let’s get back to sleep, come on.” He kisses him and strokes his hair, before moving so that Jehan is sprawled over his chest and Combeferre is lying on his back.

He puts his arms tightly around the poet, and it takes them about twenty minutes, all told, to get back to sleep again, Jehan still wound around Combeferre, and Combeferre’s arms around him.


End file.
